


A Hopeful Beginning

by Daydreamer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Male Slash, Scars, Shonen-ai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydreamer/pseuds/Daydreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though he never knew him that well, Steve mourned the death of Phil Coulson along with the other Avengers. When Phil returns from the dead, alive and well, he is angered at the betrayal. As he learns, he and Phil are not so different in their lives. Neither had control over their lives. Can something bloom from the ashes created by the past?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hopeful Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fadedlullabyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedlullabyes/gifts).



Steve sat in silent awe as he watched the images playing across the rather large television screen. Even after over two years after having awoken from his frozen state, the technological advances never ceased to amaze him. When he'd become frozen alive, it was only the radio found in most homes, with the movie theater being the only option for watching black and white news reels and movies. Now, every home, even the poorest families, had access to a television.

And in color.

The image playing out before him was so crisp and so realistic that it seemed possible to step right out of the screen and into the living room. It never got old. Tony had tried to introduce him to video games, but after breaking three controllers, they both agreed he was better as a spectator than a participant. He didn't mind, though. Video games were not something that really interested him anyway. If he wanted to be truthful, his life was like those video games that Tony and Clint played.

Since Tony had converted his tower into a headquarters for the other members of the Avengers, most of them had taken to staying there. Bruce had his own lab for research and Clint had a firing range, complete with an archery course. Stark had spared no expense with refurbishing the place. There was something to appeal to everyone and it seemed almost complete...except for one thing.

Keeping his eyes glued to the screen, though he was not really seeing what was playing out before him, he thought back several months to when Loki had brought chaos to the Earth along with his alien army. It wasn't the first time he had lost comrades. He couldn't even count the number of people he had lost during his battle against Johann Schmidt and Hydra, his best friend, Bucky, being the most bitter.

All that aside, there should be one there who wasn't. Phil Coulson's death had given the Avengers a purpose. It had drawn them together. His death had tipped the scales. 

He had ignored the looks of awe and excitement that Coulson had shot his way. He could barely recall the handful of times they had spoken. At the time, he'd thought him nothing more than a fan. He had ignored him and when Fury had thrown the bloodstained action cards onto the table, something in him had withered.

It had angered him and spurred him on. Coulson's death had given him focus...yet now, with the dust cleared and the world in a tentative sort of peace, he was allowed to think on the events of that day and those preceding it. And he grieved in silent mourning. Everyone did in their own way, but to Steve, it felt as if he had lost something precious—something he had not recognized as such until it was gone.

In the background, he heard muffled laughter and shouts. Natasha and Clint. He sunk deeper into the couch and tried to ignore them. He didn't want to intrude on them and he wasn't feeling up to socializing. Sitting here and pretending to watch the television was fine with him.

"Steve!"

Steve sighed, wishing they hadn't seen him, or at least ignored him. But, he was raised to be polite, even if he was not feeling sociable. So, he turned where he sat and froze.

There standing with Natasha hanging onto him, was Phil Coulson. For a moment, he blinked dumbly and tried to figure out if his thoughts were somehow interfering with his eyes. His lips parted and he blinked several times. It couldn't be. Fury had told them he was dead. He had Coulson's blood-stained cards in his room. Coulson should not be there, but he was all the same.

"Phil's alive."

Tony chose that moment to walk into the space and froze where he stood. It took some serious doing to take the words from Tony Stark's mouth. He stood with his lips parted, much like him, but recovered far more quickly. "I'll be damned. Agent...we thought you were dead. Go figure. Where have you been?"

"Tahiti mostly," answered Coulson in that stoic tone of his.

"Really?" asked Natasha with an arched brow. "How was it?"

An expression crossed Coulson's face, though he masked it well. The others probably had not even seen it, but Steve did. 

Coulson gave a final squeeze to Natasha's waist. "Magical. S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled me off my previous assignment and brought me back here temporarily."

"Other assignment?" Tony's brows were in his hairline. "What is this talk you have of other assignment? I think my computers would have told me if Agent Phil Coulson were active."

To support his comment, he pulled out a handheld device and began plugging in data before the television left the station Steve was watching and showed what was on Tony's device. It was the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent database and there was Coulson's file, along with his picture and history. The words killed in action were written in red beside his status.

"Now, if it was anyone else, I'd blame this on human error, but since this is S.H.I.E.L.D., let's cut the crap and get down to it. What have you been doing these last few months? And don't spin some S.H.I.E.L.D. bullshit. Trust me, I know firsthand the bullshit they create so lay it on us straight."

Steve stood and looked on with interest. His insides were jumping in excitement, confusion, and anger. He had mourned this man—a virtual stranger, and here he was alive and just back from...Tahiti.

"It's classified."

"Bullshit," argued Tony. "Don't turn all CIA on us. We have super powers...or really thick armor."

"I don't know if I'd call what I do a super power," said Natasha with a curve of her lips.

"Sweetheart, you make men willing to pay you to beat them up. That sounds like a superpower if I ever heard," replied Tony.

She merely shook her head and rolled her eyes. Clint and Coulson both chuckled. Only Steve remained silent, his jaw clenched tight enough to shatter if his bones weren't reinforced by the super serum present in every cell in his body.

"Why did you come back?" he finally asked after forcing his jaw to relax.

"I asked to come. Director Fury was opposed to it, but I couldn't stand the thought of continuing to lie to all of you. My death, it was all made official in order to keep from distracting all of you from your purpose. He didn't want to undo what was done."

It was a bullshit answer. Even Steve could see that. He could also see why Fury would have wanted Coulson to remain dead. Every battle, every time the Avengers were called forth, it was Coulson's face they all saw. It was his death that spurred them on, making them determined to not let another suffer.

"What have you been doing," asked Clint. 

"I've been leading a team, investigating strange phenomena."

"Like X-files strange?" asked Tony with a grin. "Can I call you Mulder? Or would you rather be Scully?"

"No; and I'll shoot you if you try."

Tony scoffed and turned to leave. "Well, nice seeing you again. Stay for dinner. Pepper would filet me if I don't invite you, but please, don't feel the need to show up."

It was Tony's way. He never showed his emotions freely, but it was obvious that he was glad to see Coulson. They all were. As angry as he was, even Steve was happy. That little ache in his chest that never fully healed and always flared up when he thought of Coulson's fate, it no longer hurt. Coulson was alive.

Natasha leaned over and kissed Coulson on the cheek just before she slapped him, hard. The sound reverberated throughout the room. Both Clint and Steve stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

"That was for making me go to your funeral."

"I deserved that."

"You're damn right." She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed hard before pulling away. "Clint and I have a meeting with Fury, but I want to see you later. I'm not letting you pretend to die on me again."

Clint smiled limply and patted Coulson on his shoulder before following her from the room, leaving just the two of them. Steve shoved his hands into his pockets, fisting them in an effort to keep his cool. "I'm glad you're alive," he said blandly.

"No more than I am." Coulson smiled limply. "I'm sorry about all this. It was Director Fury's idea. I was in a coma for nearly a week, so when I finally came to, it was already done. It's a pity really. I would have liked to have seen my funeral."

That comment was the one that broke his calm. He stepped forward with righteous indignation and latched onto the lapel of Coulson's suit jacket with one hand. "Don't ever say that. That's not funny. No one was laughing as we watched your casket being lowered into the ground. No one was smiling when we blamed ourselves for your death. If we had acted like a team instead of an ego struggle with each other, we might have kept you from being hurt. Don't ever act like it was nothing, because it was everything."

With those words, Steve released his grip on Coulson's jacket and walked away before he did something he would regret, like slugging him. He was considered the gentlest of the bunch, the boy scout; but with Coulson, he found his grip on his emotions worn thin.

He made his way to the top of the building. The roof was set up with a helipad on one side, but the other possessed a small garden. It was a place of complete peace and contemplation. Bruce had insisted that Tony install somewhere they could go to wash away the bad karma of the day. Other than Bruce, Steve was the one who utilized the space the most. It was one of the few places he could completely escape the technology of this new world he found himself in and look back on a simpler time.

As he sat there thinking, he wondered what sort of strain Coulson had experienced with his life taken from him. The vehicle was different, but it was something he could relate to. He'd had his life taken from him as well. One day he was in the nineteen forties and then suddenly he was shot forward in time to the twenty-first century. Starting over from nothing was harder than most people would realize. In that respect, he and Coulson were very similar and he felt a wash of regret for his anger and how he had spoken earlier. Perhaps Coulson's calm acceptance was simply how he dealt with what was foisted upon him.

Standing from the bench, he walked toward the elevator and took it down to the group living area. Not that he expected Coulson to be there, but he thought he would look. "Uhhh...J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"Yes, Mr. Rodgers?"

Steve wince upon hearing the synthetic voice come over the speakers present in every room of the building. He would never get used to it. Then again, he did not think he would ever get used to television or Tony Stark for that matter. "Where's Agent Coulson?"

"Agent Coulson is in a guest suite on the fourteenth floor. The blue rooms. Do you require directions?"

He shook his head. "I can find it. Thanks."

"You are most welcome, sir."

Heading toward the elevator once more, he pressed the button with the fourteen on it and shifted on his feet for the duration of the ride. His heart thudded in his chest and his palms were surprisingly damp. He felt more like he was going to ask a girl out rather than apologize to someone for his behavior. Shaking his head to clear it, he walked out of the contraption as the doors opened and down the hall to a door labeled 'The Blue Room'.

The lump in his throat grew and he fought back the rise of tension in him before knocking on the door. It was several long moments before the wooden door opened to reveal Coulson as he had never seen him. His hair was damp and stuck to his head. His clothes consisted of a bathrobe and little else. He'd obviously just been in the shower, and jumped out so to answer the door.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to..." He wanted to slap himself for getting tongue-tied. His eyes skimmed down the length of the robe to where it gaped open faintly. There before him was a brutal scar. The ridges of healing flesh was a slightly darker color than his skin. The injury was obviously bad and he hated himself for the anger he had shown. Coulson had suffered, nearly died even.

Coulson followed his gaze and paled before drawing the robe tighter around him. "Sorry."

"No...I...if you don't mind, I'd like to see it."

"I don't think that's necessary. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to dress for dinner."

Steve's hand shot forward before Coulson could close the door. "Please. You owe that much."

He looked shocked and about to refuse when he stepped back into his suite and held the door open. "Come in."

Steve walked into the room, eyes scanning the quiet elegance of the space. Stark really spared no expense when it came to such things, though he had a suspicion that Pepper was the one who decorated the guest rooms. There was no telling what sort of gaudy, tasteless crap Tony would have used. In that respect, Pepper was a life saver, but then everyone living in the Avenger's tower knew that.

He was so busy taking in the suite that he didn't notice Coulson parting his robe more fully, to allow for the scar of the injury to be fully exposed. It was ugly, rolls of scar tissue ridged up far too close to where he knew the heart resided. The injury was a mar on an otherwise attractive expanse of flesh. Coulson wasn't heavily muscled like Thor, nor did he have perfectly sculpted abs like Tony. He was naturally lean with straight lines and a healthy physique.

A wave of compassion washed through Steve. He knew far too well how it felt to wake up one day and find out his world had changed. Off-handedly, he wondered if Coulson had never been in a coma, would he have gone along with Fury's decision?

Taking a step forward, he found his eyes drawn to the scar. Without thought, his fingers brushed the ridged skin. It looked hard, but was surprisingly soft to the touch. Coulson gasped at the touch and he lifted his eyes in question. "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes."

"Now?"

Coulson shook his head. "No."

"That's good." His fingers traced along the edges of the injury, wanting to soothe any pain there. It was not often that he was allowed the chance comfort. He'd been a figurehead for the army and then a warrior for it. He'd become an Avenger, but still, he had never had the chance to comfort.

The sudden urge to kiss the flesh rose in him. He was forced to tamp down the urge before he embarrassed himself by doing just that. It wasn't that he was opposed to such intimacy between men. Simply living in a more conservative age did not stop him from finding pleasure with both sexes, though in his case, it was mostly the male sort. Having been a bit on the small size, men of the same ilk were drawn to him while women ignored him in favor of Bucky.

He hadn't thought to have such thoughts for Coulson. Others had told him how much Coulson admired him. They made jokes about him fan-girling or masturbating to the fantasy of Captain America. The others might not have realized that Steve heard them, but the thoughts of those past words came to life in his mind. He wondered exactly what Coulson would think if he did lean forward and kiss him on that cruel scar.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get dressed now."

Steve pulled his hand back as he was jerked from his thoughts and watched Coulson's face blush a becoming red. Seeing him as such, he felt a warmth rise inside him. Coulson was always the pinnacle of control. He was not emotionless, but rather in fully control of his emotions. Now, he looked less like Agent Coulson and more like Phil, the Phil that every Avenger had mourned.

With regret, he withdrew his hand and stepped back, already missing the touch of skin on his callused hands. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he stroked a finger over the cards hidden there before finally removing them and passing them to Coulson. "I had them cleaned as best I could. Blood doesn't come out easily. I doubt you could call them in mint condition any more, but I thought you might like to have them."

Coulson's blush darkened as he took the cards. "I hope you don't think bad of me for these."

"I don't. I think...I understand you better because of them. When you did what you did, you were very heroic; but, there is nothing heroic in death. I'm glad you decided to come back to us."

"You're right. My apologies for allowing the charade to gone on long after the initial threat was over."

Steve smiled and placed a hand on Coulson's shoulder. His hands squeezed and he could not stop his thumb from stroking over the cloth covered flesh. "I'll see you at dinner. Tony invited everyone. It's going to be more of a welcome back party than dinner."

Coulson's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He had never seen him so unraveled. It was rather cute. "Steve..."

He smiled, withdrew his hand, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Let's talk more later. I'd like to get to know you, Phil. I'd like to know the man who has become an obsession of my thoughts in the last few months."

Coulson's eyes grew wide and his breath caught in his throat. If that was not enough of an invitation for more without directly saying such, he did not know what was. He left Coulson to dress for dinner and walked to his own series of rooms with a small smile on his lips. It felt strange being the instigator. In the past, he has always played the more passive role in his relationships. 

But not with Phil. Regardless of the route taken in this budding relationship, he was curious to see just where it led. The loneliness of living was temporarily eased by the thought of spending time with someone like him, someone who'd had no control over his life for a time—someone who decided to fight and take back what was lost. Whatever the future held for him and Phil, he would be sure to enjoy every moment of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not an Avengers fangirl, so you'll have to excuse anything ooc. I enjoy the Marvel movies, but I'm not really into the fandom. I did, however, write this as a birthday fic for the lovely fadedlullabyes whom I love long time. She wanted something with Steve, Phil, and Steve's scar. And of course I do watch the Agent's of SHIELD off and on. <3 Coulson. So please, enjoy this short work of fiction and Faded, I hope you like it.


End file.
